Confines
by Jade II
Summary: Laura, Bill and seven other people in a tiny crashed ship with a possible Cylon in their midst... Paranoia, claustrophobia and general angstiness included.
1. Chapter 1

"How much time do I have?"

There was something about that sentence which made Laura uncomfortable as she said it, but, busy as she was stuffing her face before the press conference started, she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

Tory looked at her watch. "Two minutes." She tapped her foot. Laura wasn't sure whether this movement was unconscious or if Tory was doing it to emphasize her point.

"Hmm. Guess I don't have time for dessert." She reached for her cup of water.

"I still don't understand why you won't eat on the Galactica," Tory complained.

"Oh, I will." Laura wiped her mouth. "I'll manage a nibble here and there, between being accosted by various members of the crew and the government, and then eventually I'll get more than half a minute to myself and I'll turn around and all the food will be gone." She stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her suit. "Do I look presentable?"

Her aide looked her over. "There are breadcrumbs on your sleeve."

Laura tutted at herself and brushed the offending morsels away. "Better?" she asked.

Tory nodded. "Ready?"

"As ever." Laura smiled. "Let's go."

The curtain was pulled back, and Laura stepped up to the podium to face the crowd.

Bill Adama was in the front row, with Apollo and his wife farther back, standing now with the others to applaud; with Galactica more or less stationary at the moment to oversee mining operations Laura supposed Bill had thought he could safely let – make? – them attend. She donned her presidential smile as she surveyed the room, spotting a couple of members of the Quorum of Twelve in the second row behind Tom Zarek and mentally rehearsing things to say to them when their paths inevitably crossed at the party.

The flashing of the press' cameras died down and Laura allowed her audience to sit before addressing them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "Today we celebrate Colonial Day..."

--

"Nice speech," said a voice behind Laura as she stepped away from the podium. She turned around to find Tom Zarek looking at her with that air of subtle smugness he always seemed to have about him.

"Thank you," she replied, offering him a small smile. "But Tory deserves most of the credit."

"Hmm, no," Zarek said. "No, she may have written it, but you're the one who made it all sound so... inspirational."

Laura let her smile stay in place, even though this was one of those many instances when she wasn't sure if her vice president was mocking her or being genuine; although it was usually, she had decided, a rather intricate combination of both. "Well, I hope I've inspired you to do a good job holding the fort here tonight."

"As long as you don't drink so much that I'll have to hold it tomorrow as well. I do have my own business to attend to as well, you know."

"I know all too well, Tom. In fact I seem to recall one Colonial Day where your chief order of business was to have me assassinated." She raised an eyebrow.

"Now now, Laura." He wagged a finger at her. "You never proved that."

"Hmm." She narrowed her eyes. "So long as you don't try to stage a coup in my absence."

Zarek grinned. "Don't worry, Laura. I don't think the fleet is ready to accept me as President just yet."

"Oh, so you do aspire to the presidency?"

"Maybe." He smirked. "But tonight I'll be busy trying to keep the press entertained. The facilities here are somewhat... lacking, you know."

"As opposed to the Astral Queen?" Laura said.

"Good point," he conceded, nodding. His demeanor changed to something more resembling seriousness. "I'm sure I can make do."

Laura allowed herself a real smile. "Don't drink too much and do something scandalous; my government's actions reflect on me, you know."

Zarek smirked again. "Same goes for you, Madam President. Have a good time, though."

"I will certainly do my best." She turned and began to make her way towards the airlock, following those who had already departed. "Oh," she said, turning around just before she walked out of sight, "And don't sit in my chair."

Zarek's answering salute was typically jocular.

--

The shuttle Laura and the dozen or so other people going back from Colonial One to the party on Galactica were sharing for their short trip was almost spacious. The seats in the passenger area weren't as comfortable as the ones on Colonial One, it was true, but there was a bathroom containing an actual bath, and real cooking appliances in the medium-sized kitchen opposite.

There was also a small cabin meant for the captain and his co-pilot to share on longer flights, which Laura had been offered the use of. Unfortunately she knew that, as this was _not_ one of those longer flights, she had no excuse to hide away in there instead of mingling. Which would have been fine, but the Quorum representative from Aerolon who was currently demanding her attention was such a bore...

"Of course, that brings up the issue of whether or not we should be promoting the breeding of the sheep rather than the goats, which would bring its own complications…" he droned.

Laura smiled and nodded and tried to look interested.

"Mr. Gillan, might I borrow the President for a moment?" Bill Adama appeared at her elbow and she shot him a grateful smile.

"...Of course," Gillan replied after a second's hesitation, though annoyance flashed in his eyes as he turned away.

Bill grinned and leaned closer to her to say in an undertone, "You looked like you needed rescuing."

She nodded, returning the grin. "Thanks."

"All part of the service, Madam President." He gestured towards a pair of vacant seats near the buffet table – and why did they need a buffet table anyway? The trip was going to take all of ten minutes – and raised his eyebrows. "Care to join me for a quick meal of whatever they're trying to pass off as gourmet cuisine today?"

"I'll pass on the cuisine, but the champagne looks enticing."

They exchanged another smile and Laura took a seat, allowing Bill to get her a glass of champagne before joining her. He was nibbling a tiny sausage skewered with a cube of cheese on a cocktail stick.

"How's the food?" Laura asked wryly, sipping her champagne.

Bill swallowed, looking at his cube of cheese distastefully. "They try to make it fancy by putting it on a little stick, but in the end it's still just meat and cheese." He bit the cheese off the stick and chewed. "Not very good cheese, either."

"Ah, but when was the last time you had very good food anyway, Bill?" Laura said, inwardly asking the same question of herself. Probably not since that restaurant she'd visited the day before the attacks for a working lunch with Richard... She blinked and snapped herself back to the present. "No offense to Galactica's galley, of course."

"Hmm," Bill replied, tactfully not commenting on that last. "Last month. It was Lee's birthday. Dee cooked a meal." His gaze wandered to the far side of the cabin, where his daughter-in-law was engaged in conversation with Tory. "It was pretty good." He sounded wistful.

Laura decided not to remark upon his tone, nor on the decidedly stand-offish behavior she had seen between Apollo and his wife lately. "In that case," she said instead, "I'm quite jealous of you. You'll have to smuggle me out a portion next time."

"And go hungry myself?" Bill's eyes twinkled as he shook his head, though there was still some hint of melancholy beneath it. "There are many things I'd do for you, Laura, but that's not one of them." He paused. "Unless you want my cheese on a stick," he added, holding a second piece out to her.

She laughed. "Like I said, I'll pass on the—"

She was interrupted by a loud CRASH which shook the ship and almost threw both herself and Bill out of their seats. Looking around the still trembling shuttle as Bill jumped to his feet and hurried to the cockpit, she was glad she hadn't been standing; some people had clearly been thrown across the cabin and several looked like they had been injured, though none seriously that she could see.

Apollo offered Dualla his hand to help her to her feet but she waved him off. They both followed the Admiral towards the cockpit and Laura made to follow.

"Madam President, are you alright?" said Tory's voice from behind her, and Laura stopped in her tracks and turned to face her assistant, stumbling as she did so when the ship shook again.

"I'm fine," she said briskly. "We need to find out what's—"

A Cylon raider flitted past the window not fifty yards away.

"...happening," Laura finished weakly.

The Admiral came back into the cabin. "We're under attack," he announced. "We're going to try an emergency landing on Galactica as soon as the Vipers have been launched. In the meantime hold tight – we'll be performing evasive maneuvers."

Laura barely had time to reclaim her chair before another explosion rocked the ship – and she found herself floating upwards and away from the chair in ricochet.

"Frak it," Bill muttered. "The grav generator's gone." He was floating lengthwise in midair, having only just managed to grab the arm of the chair before they'd been hit.

Tory had not been so lucky, Laura saw – her nose was bloodied from colliding with something and she was now being helped to a seat by some of her fellow passengers, the rest of whom were prudently fastening seatbelts. Laura followed suit.

Bill seemed about to do the same when Dualla appeared at the door to the cockpit. "Sir?"

Laura thought she sounded worried. Bill evidently agreed, because he propelled himself over to Dualla – with remarkable grace, considering how long ago his zero-gravity training must have been – and answered her in a hushed voice. Then they both disappeared back into the cockpit.

All in all, this was rather unsettling.

Laura tried to think of something she could do to help, but the shuttle seemed to be accelerating, forcing her back against her seat, and she had to conclude that the best thing she could do was to stay there and set a calm, composed example.

Gods, she hated doing nothing in a crisis.

Her fellow passengers seemed remarkably composed, as well; at least dealing with somebody else's panic attack would make her feel like she was contributing, but really there was no help she could provide for these people...

The acceleration seemed to pick up even more, and Bill and Dualla came flying hurriedly out of the cockpit, heading for the closest free seats. Bill reclaimed his place next to Laura.

"That last hit knocked us into the gravitational pull of one of the asteroids," he said to her in an undertone. "Our propulsion system's half-frakked, so the best we can do is try to make the landing not too bumpy."

"You mean we're going to crash?" Laura asked, somehow needing confirmation of what he had in as many words just told her.

"Yep." Bill grinned, fastening his seatbelt. "Will this be your first crash landing, Madam President?" he asked, in the same tone as one might ask if it was her first visit to Picon.

"Yes it is, Admiral," she replied, trying hard to play along with his joviality. "Would you please advise me as to the proper customs to be observed for this occasion."

"Certainly, Madam President." He looked at her; his steady gaze was somehow comforting. "You hold tight and pray."

Laura managed a laugh despite herself. "Right," she said. "Right. I think I can do that." She reached out to squeeze his hand, seeking some kind of physical comfort as well. He smiled back.

"Brace, brace!" the pilot yelled from the cockpit.

Laura's stomach flipped as they plunged downward, and she held tight and prayed.


	2. Chapter 2

"Laura?"

Her first thought was that she hurt. A lot.

"Laura."

Her second thought she said out loud. "Bill?"

"Hey."

Laura opened her eyes to find Admiral Adama smiling down at her, and felt the corners of her mouth twitch into an instinctive smile of her own.

"How are you feeling?" the admiral asked.

"Hurt," she admitted.

Bill nodded. "I was kinda hoping you were still out. You've dislocated your shoulder; I'm going to have to pop it back in."

Laura closed her eyes and breathed out. "Okay."

A wave of pain rushed through her left arm as Bill gently lifted it, then gripped it harder. "This is gonna hurt," he warned.

"Just do it," Laura mumbled.

Bill pulled, and twisted, and—oh, _pain_!

It seared through her shoulder like fire and she was pretty sure that she screamed... and then it subsided to a dull throbbing and Bill was looking at her apologetically.

"Thanks," she squeaked, and he smiled again.

"You should find something to strap that up with as soon as possible," he said.

"Later," she said dismissively, reaching for him with her other arm so he could help her sit up. "What's happening?" she asked, taking in her surroundings.

"Well," Bill said, seating himself in a more comfortable position on the floor once Laura was upright, "The good news is that the gravity generator is working again. It's only at half power, but with the asteroid's own gravity it's almost normal... Though you may want to avoid jumping up and down."

"And the bad news?" Laura asked, demanding the inevitable.

Bill sighed. "The pilot's dead. Lee was in the cockpit with him trying to help out and has a concussion and some cracked ribs. Communications are down and Dee isn't sure she can get them working again, and the propulsion system is smashed up pretty bad. We've got some food and drink, but there's no telling if it'll last until we get back in the air."

"If we ever do."

Bill nodded. "That's about the size of it."

"Right." Laura swallowed, letting the gears click into place in her mind as she went into presidential mode. "How many people do we have?"

"There were ten including the pilot."

"So that's nine now. Has anybody worked out exactly how long the food will last?"

"No. Melissa, the stewardess, says there's more in the hold than what we have here in the cabin." Bill indicated the young woman who had been hovering anxiously around the guests when the shuttle had been launched, probably wondering exactly what she was supposed to do on such a short flight. She was now looking rather dazed sitting on the floor holding a makeshift bandage to a cut on her cheek. The one member of the press who had been permitted to travel with them was filming a rather heated discussion between the two Quorum members present, which Tory seemed to be trying to mediate. Lieutenant Dualla was tending to a wound on Apollo's leg with something resembling tenderness.

Laura took this all in, nodding to herself as she did so. "Help me up," she told Bill.

The Admiral obliged, and Laura got shakily to her feet. Still hanging onto his arm for support, she steered them towards the Quorum members.

"Mr. Gillan, Madam Vardon," she greeted them. "What's the trouble here?"

Gillan looked at her incredulously. His gray hair was in disarray and he looked distinctly shaken. "What's the trouble? We've _crashed_, that's the trouble! In the middle of a Cylon attack!"

"He thinks the repairs on the propulsion system should take priority over communication," Vardon put in. "But if we repair communications first Galactica can launch a rescue mission." She looked at Gillan pointedly.

"Admiral, what do you think?" Laura asked, appealing to authority.

Bill clenched his jaw, thinking. "We don't have a proper damage assessment of either system yet, so we don't even know if they can be repaired. In any case, I'm putting Lieutenant Dualla in charge of dealing with communications and Major Adama of fixing the propulsion. Neither of them are experts on this particular ship's systems, so they're gonna have to play it by ear."

Gillan still looked incredulous. "That's _it_? That's what you're going to do?"

"It's all we can do, Mr. Gillan," Bill replied calmly. "Our best. In the meantime, if you'd like to help us with assessing the food situation and figuring out a rationing system, that would be most helpful." He nodded at the two Quorum members. "Mr. Gillan, Madam Vardon, if you'll excuse me, I'll speak to my officers and make sure repairs get underway." Looking at Laura, he put a hand over hers on his arm in question. She nodded a response, letting go of him and standing without support as he walked away.

"I'll see if I can find out how much water we have," Tory said.

"Thank you, Tory." Laura turned to address the three remaining members of the small group. "I suggest we do as the Admiral says and go down to the hold to see how much food we have." Laura left the way aft to the hatch leading below without leaving the others time for debate. "Could you open this, please?" she asked the reporter, which had the desired effect of him turning the camera off and tightening its strap around his shoulder in order to pull the hatch open with both hands. Laura accepted his hand in support when the ladder below was revealed. She tried to use her left arm, but her shoulder protested painfully so she had to descend one-handedly.

The hold of this ship was not at all like that of Colonial One – which was unsurprising really, as Colonial One's hold was currently home to around seventy people. This place was obviously, though, home to somebody, and Laura felt a momentary pang of guilt at having rooted whoever it was out just to facilitate what would have been a ten-minute journey. A pile of shabby mattresses was stacked up against the hull at the far end, next to which stood a large crate filled with clothes and topped with books and knick-knacks.

What interested Laura currently, though, was the stack of smaller crates closer to the ladder the other members of her little foraging party were now climbing down. Two yellow colored ones on top were open, and Laura peered inside one of them to find containers of nuts, sausages, pre-sliced cheese and other food she had seen on the buffet table, as well as a small box of cocktail sticks.

The other open crate proved to be full of champagne.

"Ye gods, how much did they expect us to drink?" she murmured – then immediately regretted the remark when the reporter switched his camera back on to get a shot of it.

_Fleet's Alcohol Wasted On Dignitaries_, Laura thought wryly.

"Alright," she said. "We need to open each of these crates and find out what we've got to work with. You," she said, turning to the reporter, "Use your camera to catalogue it." She waited for him to nod before reaching for the first unopened crate.

The three government officials lent themselves to the task with varied enthusiasm. Mr. Gillan, whom Laura had long ago pegged as tending rather to the paranoid and hypochondriac in addition to being dull, squeaked quite amusingly when he opened a crate to find a hypodermic needle staring him in the face. Further investigation by Madam Vardon, who had once been a paramedic, revealed the crate to contain a collection of rudimentary medical supplies.

Well. That was a small victory, at least.

"Madam President."

Laura looked up to see Tory climbing down the ladder.

"There's a water tank behind the bathroom, capacity five hundred gallons, but probably only a hundred in there."

Laura made some calculations in her head. "That's water for about five days," she said. "Ten, maybe, if we don't use it other than to drink. It sounds like a lot, but we still don't know how long repairs will take." And since when had she known the figures for minimum water requirement off the top of her head, anyway, Laura wondered... "Alright. You help out here; I'll talk to the Admiral."

"Yes ma'am." Tory nodded and turned to help with the crates.

Laura climbed back up into the cabin. When she had packed all those skirts back on Caprica – Gods, over two years ago now – she hadn't anticipated having to climb quite so many ladders...

She found Bill talking to the stewardess, who was now on her feet looking slightly less ruffled. He turned when he saw her.

"Hey," he said. "How are things looking down there?"

"We have food for a couple of days at least, and enough alcohol to keep us drunk for about a week," she said, letting the tilt of her eyebrows acknowledge the stupidity of the situation. "We also found some medical supplies."

Bill nodded. "That's good. If you'd like I'll strap your arm for you while we wait for an estimate on repairs."

Laura smiled gratefully. "That's very kind of you Bill; thank you."

"I'll find some bandages," he said, heading for the ladder.

Finding herself alone with the stewardess, Laura turned to speak to her. "Melissa, isn't it?" she said kindly.

The stewardess nodded, swallowing.

"You don't have any kind of technical expertise on this ship, by any chance?" Laura asked; there was no harm in it, after all.

Melissa swallowed again before speaking. "I… I'm training to be a pilot, Madam President."

"Really…"

At last, some real luck…

Laura looked around the cabin, currently only inhabited by Dualla working on the passenger communications terminal. "Come with me," she said to the stewardess, striding toward the door to the cockpit. She knocked before pushing it open.

"Madam President," Lee Adama said, looking up from a mess of wires pulled free from a panel in the wall.

"Major Apollo," she acknowledged, "How's it going?"

"I'm… really not sure," he admitted. "It's gonna take me a while to figure out how all this works, let alone what's wrong with it."

Laura smiled. "Major Adama, may I present Melissa, who is training to fly this very vessel."

The relief in his face was evident. "Melissa, you have no idea how glad I am to meet you. You think you can help me figure out how to fix this thing?"

"I'll do my very best," Melissa promised, promptly removing her stewardess' hat and gloves and getting on her knees to examine the open panel.

"Alright." He sighed, giving Laura a quick nod of thanks as he got to his feet. "I'll go check on Dee."

Laura followed him back out, then stood near the ladder trying to appear as if she couldn't hear the whispered argument between Apollo and his wife. She was insisting that she didn't need his help, though even Laura could see that she clearly did – the panel she was struggling to lift off the wall was obviously heavy enough to cause serious damage if it fell on her.

"Here we go," said Bill's voice behind her, and Laura started, spinning to face him.

Bill grinned. "Come on."

He walked past her to the captain's cabin, pointedly ignoring his officers' bickering as he held the door open for Laura. She slipped inside and looked around as he closed it.

It was less a room than it was a box, she thought. The bed took up most of it – it was a real bed, albeit cheaply made – and the floorspace was further compromised by a narrow desk and simple metal chair. The desk was empty save a few sparse items of stationary, though Laura couldn't tell if this was because the pilot had tidied it in anticipation of her visit or because it was all he owned. The only storage space seemed to be a rail on the wall from which a clean uniform was hanging, a small shelf above the bed, which held four or five books, and a large drawer under it. The edge of some piece of clothing was poking out from the top of the drawer, suggesting the pilot had shoved things in there in a hurry.

Laura spared a moment to mourn the loss of yet another human being, then sat down on the bed and shrugged carefully out of her suit jacket. Bill walked the two or three steps to the far side of the cabin and sat next to her, laying his foraged medical supplies down on the desk.

She lifted her hands to unfasten the buttons of her blouse, then hissed quietly when pain shot through her left arm again. One-handed unbuttoning it was, then…

One-handed unbuttoning, it turned out, was a lot more difficult than one-handed ladder climbing. Laura looked up to find Bill smirking at her frustration.

She raised an eyebrow. "You could help, you know," she said pointedly.

"I didn't want to be presumptuous," he replied, reaching out to work the buttons swiftly now that he had permission.

Amused, Laura fixed him with a look. "Bill. We're all adults here."

A grin played at Bill's lips. "Speak for yourself. Do you know how long it's been since I've taken off a woman's blouse?"

"Hmm," she said. "Do I want to?"

"Suffice to say," he continued, "It's been long enough for me to be more appreciative of this than I perhaps should be." He slipped the unfastened blouse over her shoulders, his fingers lingering on her skin for longer than was strictly necessary, Laura was sure.

Bill ducked his head in apology. Laura smirked, and he smiled for a second before reaching for a bandage and getting back to business. When he looked at her again he seemed uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. "If I'm gonna do this effectively you're going to have to take off your bra."

…Ah. That would explain it. "Okay," she said, trying for his sake not to let her private shiver of… apprehension? Titillation? …Show in her face or voice. She reached up behind her back with her good hand to unhook her bra, cursing herself as she felt her fingers shake. Why was she nervous? It was only Bill…

No, she corrected herself. It was the fact that it was Bill that was making her nervous. Bill and the whatever-it-was that hung like a permanent fixture between them, somehow simultaneously driving them both apart and ever closer together.

And Bill could feel it, too. Keeping his eyes firmly on the bandage and off the parts of her anatomy not usually on display, he instructed her to lift her good arm so he could pass the bandage underneath it. "This will probably hurt," he warned as he started to bind the top part of her other arm to her side.

"I'm sure I'll survive," Laura replied. She had meant it to sound light-hearted, but the effect was rather ruined when she clenched her teeth against the pain.

"Good to know."

Bill worked swiftly but gently as an uncomfortable silence descended in the tiny cabin. Gods, Laura thought, they hadn't endured quite such a silence since… actually, she couldn't even remember when. And it was all down to the whatever-it-was, she knew that much.

Usually she tried not to contemplate the whatever-it-was… the 'fixture'… all too deeply, which was mostly because she knew neither she nor Bill could or would act on it. But there was some kind of deep-seated attraction between them which only seemed to deepen farther with time. She had tried, on occasion, to tell herself it wasn't sexual; it was just two kindred spirits naturally gravitating toward one another, seeking comfort and understanding from the only other person who, in this new world of theirs, could possibly give it. However, the way she was reacting to his touch, and had reacted to the dozens of other innocent touches before it, was making this argument difficult to sustain.

Damn her for falling for the one she shouldn't have. Again.

"Okay," Bill's voice said, breaking her out of her reverie. He cleared his throat again and she smiled, pretending she hadn't been thinking about him, and he helped her with her bra without her having to ask. She pulled the straps over her arms and he pushed her hair aside to fasten it behind her back, and ha! – his fingers were shaking too…

Although, Laura reflected, it would all be some much easier if she knew her feelings weren't reciprocated…

The silence grew less uncomfortable the more clothes Laura had back on, a fact she could tell was lost on neither of them. Finally, when they were both standing and Bill had gathered what was left of the medical supplies, she felt the invisible barrier between them had strengthened again enough for her to touch his arm and smile and say thank you.

Bill smiled and nodded in return, then he opened the door and the President and the Admiral stepped back out into the main cabin.

Lee Adama accosted them almost immediately, asking in a low voice to speak with them urgently.

"Go ahead, Major, what is it?" Bill prompted.

His son looked down and swallowed before looking up again. "I was working on the communications panel and I found…" he trailed off, looking at Laura, and obviously decided to skip the technical details. He cleared his throat, reminding Laura for a split second all too much of his father, and continued, "Somebody sent a signal from it at a non-Colonial frequency right before the Cylons attacked. They knew exactly when to strike, right when both of you were on the shuttle." He paused again, as if what he was about to say required extra strength to utter. "Somebody onboard is either a collaborator or a Cylon."


	3. Chapter 3

_A Cylon. Great. This is all we need…_ Laura massaged her forehead, trying to stave off the headache beginning to grow behind it.

"What does Dee say about this?" Bill was asking Apollo quietly.

Lee looked down. "I uh, haven't said anything to her yet, sir."

"Why not?" His tone was neutral but Laura could hear the message in his voice all the same. _If your marital difficulties are interfering with your work…_

Apollo still wouldn't meet his father's eyes. "It's probably just our… personal problems, but she _really_ didn't want me going near that panel. And then I wouldn't have seen the log of the transmission if I'd just done the task she set me, but Tory called her down to help with something in the hold so I thought I'd see what else I could fix, and… well. Like I said, she's probably just pissed with me. Sir."

Bill's face was now sporting that closed, unreadable expression he only wore when things were really bad. Laura felt the urge to gulp, and judging from the expression on Lee's face he was feeling the same thing. Several seconds ticked by before the Admiral replied, during which time Laura realized that she had no idea what he was going to say. Would he really accuse his son's wife of being a Cylon?

"Lee," Bill said eventually. "I want you to go around the ship and ask everybody as discreetly as possible where they were during our flight and if they saw anybody near the communications panel. Then you report back to us. As fast as possible, please."

"Yes sir." Lee saluted and made his way down to the hold, obviously glad to be given clear orders.

"Bill…" Laura said. "This is bad."

"That's kind of an understatement, don't you think?" he replied in a low voice.

Laura looked around the cabin. It was empty, but she decided they needed more privacy anyway, and pulled Bill back into the pilot's box room.

"You do realize it's still the case that neither of us knows for sure that the other isn't a Cylon," she said, folding her arms – as best she could, anyway. There was next to no space to stand, but this wasn't the kind of conversation she could have sitting on a bed.

Bill stared at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to take offense. "No," he said eventually. "But I trust you – which may or may not be stupid whether you're a Cylon or not." He allowed her a small smile. "I also trust that if you were one of theirs you'd be too valuable to them for the Cylons to shoot you down like this. The same would, I hope, go for me."

Laura returned his smile and squeezed his arm briefly. "I trust you," she said sincerely. "I also trust Lee," she continued, letting go of him and wishing there was room to pace, "but everybody else must be suspect."

"I agree," Bill said, matching her businesslike tone. "That's six possibilities, including, Gods help me, my daughter-in-law. Hell, there could be more than one of them; there are five still unidentified …"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Laura stopped him, holding up a hand. "I think we should assume there's just one for now."

"You're right." He nodded, and looked her in the eye. "We should also be aware that, if they think they're about to be discovered, they may well try to kill us and probably everybody else onboard."

"Hmm." He was right, Laura knew, and she looked away, thinking. "We can hope that we're far enough away from any resurrection ship that they wouldn't do anything so drastic as to vent the air or blow us all up, but we definitely need to watch our backs."

"I'll watch yours if you watch mine." Bill grinned wryly.

She found herself mirroring his expression, despite the feeling in her stomach of impending doom. "Sounds like a plan."

They stood there then, conversation momentarily exhausted, their smiles rapidly disappearing as the situation began to sink in. Laura sat down on the bed, and Bill joined her.

"So…" she said, feeling slightly drained now that her initial adrenaline-filled reaction had worn off. She turned to face him. "What do we do now?"

"We wait for Lee to come back and tell us what he's found out," Bill said pragmatically.

"And then?"

"I think that all depends on what he says, don't you?"

"Hmm." Laura shook her head, slowly so as not to antagonize her headache. "Only partially. From what we can tell we certainly have a Cylon or a collaborator in our midst. What do we do with them when we find out who it is?"

Bill looked at her, and it took a moment for him to reply. "This ship does have an airlock."

Laura sighed. "Bill… what if it is Dee?"

"It can't be."

"You can't know that."

It was his turn to sigh. "I know."

Laura reached for his hand, squeezed it, smiled sympathetically.

There was a knock at the door.

Bill squeezed back before he let go, getting to his feet and standing alert. Recalling what Bill had said about the Cylon trying to kill them if it were discovered, Laura sat up a little straighter.

"Come in," Bill said.

Apollo opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind him. There was no room for Laura to stand now even if she'd wanted to; she contented herself with shifting her position so she could see both Adamas better.

"What did you find out, son?" Bill prompted.

Lee cleared his throat. "No one saw anybody actually doing anything to the panel, which makes it impossible to say with any certainty who it was. But all but two people have at least two others confirming that they didn't go near it during the entire flight."

"So who are our suspects?" Laura asked.

Lee looked from Bill to Laura and back again before he spoke. "Dee and Tory, Madam President."

Laura looked across at Bill, and his eyes met hers as an unpleasant twisting feeling made itself known in her gut.

"You're sure?" Bill asked. His eyes took a second to follow the rest of him as he turned to face his son.

Lee nodded once, biting his lip.

"Bill…" Laura said quietly. "We saw them both standing near the panel, remember? When we were talking about food."

"Mmm." Bill nodded as well. "Bu that doesn't tell us which one of them it was."

"Dad, it's not Dee," Lee burst out. "I'm sorry, but it can't be. I know her too well; I would've noticed… _something_." He looked helplessly at his father.

"I could say the same thing about Tory," Laura stated. She raised her eyebrows. "But we've been taken in by the Cylons before. They're good at this."

"With all due respect, Madam President, Tory's just your aide. Dee is my _wife_." There was a hint of concealed hysteria in his voice.

"I'm afraid that's not enough for us to take as proof." Bill sighed. "We'll need to confine them somewhere, until we find out which one is guilty."

"How do you propose to do that?" Laura asked, taking care to keep her tone of voice neutral.

"We'll talk to them, and we'll interview the other passengers more thoroughly. Something will come up."

"I hope you're right, Dad." There was something in Lee's eyes which made Laura fearful of what might happen if Bill wasn't right. What would they do if nothing came up?

Bill seemed to be pondering the same thing. "Me too."

There was a silence as they all digested the implications of their situation. Then Bill straightened, put on his 'business' face and said to Lee, "Get Madam Vardon to help you escort Dee to the airlock. I'll get that reporter to help me with Tory."

Lee stared. "The airlock? Dad—"

"I'm not going to vent them into space, son." Bill put a comforting hand on Lee's shoulder. "But it's the safest place to keep them without having to tie them up." He looked at his son, and Lee nodded. "Go," Bill said gently.

Lee saluted and left, leaving Bill standing there with an expression Laura couldn't quite read.

"Bill," she said, "Are you sure locking them in together is the best idea? We have to operate under the assumption that one of them is innocent; someone could get hurt."

Bill nodded, setting his jaw. "Then we'll know who the Cylon is." He sighed, and didn't meet her eyes again as he opened the door and followed his son out.

Leaning back against the wall, Laura sighed herself. Crash-landing was bad enough – hell, being attacked by the Cylons was bad enough – having a Cylon agent onboard as well was something they definitely didn't need. _Especially_ with their current suspect list. She would be heartbroken if Tory was the agent, but she could equally imagine how Bill would feel if it turned out to be Dee. And Lee… his marriage was already rocky; this was something he certainly didn't need.

But this was how things were, so Laura swung her legs off the bed, stood up and left the room to find the airlock their two suspects were being delivered to.

She was the first to arrive, so she peered through the small window in the inner door and inspected what would be the two unfortunate women's living space for the near future. It was really not large enough for one person to be comfortable in, let alone two, but Laura had to agree with Bill that it was better than trying to restrain them in some more invasive manner. Still, she would have to make sure somebody brought some of those mattresses up from the hold, at least.

"Lee…" Laura heard Dee's voice say behind her, and turned to see Apollo leading his wife by a loose grip on the wrist, with Madam Vardon trailing a respectful few paces behind.

"I'm sorry," Lee said. He was looking understandably uncomfortable.

"You can't seriously think I'm a Cylon." Dee's voice was incredulous.

"Of course I don't, Dee. Look, you have to understand—"

"And you're locking me in with someone who probably is?"

"There'll be someone posted outside. We won't let her hurt you."

They reached the end of the short corridor and drew even with Laura. Dee looked at her suspiciously. "Was this your decision?" she demanded.

Laura was saved from having to answer this by Bill, who appeared at that moment with Tory walking demurely between him and the reporter – _really must find out his name_, Laura reminded herself.

"It was a joint decision, Dee," the Admiral said, letting sympathy seep into his tone just a little.

The Lieutenant looked like she wanted to snap something at him, but she closed her mouth again before she said anything. Whether this was out of respect for his rank or his relation to her, or out of a reflection that being cooperative might be the smarter thing to do, Laura could not tell.

"Madam President," said Tory. "I don't understand what's going on. Why would you think I was a Cylon?"

Laura afforded her a sympathetic smile. "It's just a precaution, Tory, until we can figure everything out."

Lee opened the inner door of the airlock. Hesitantly, he kissed Dee on the lips before gently pushing her inside. Her impassive expression was impaired somewhat by something stronger and not quite identifiable bubbling beneath the surface.

Tory was led past Laura; just before she stepped over the threshold she turned and said, "I'm not a Cylon, Madam President." The look on her face was enough to break Laura's heart, but she merely nodded.

The two possible Cylons were sealed in. Lee keyed something in at the controls before announcing, "It's locked."

"Thank you, Major," Bill said.

"Yes sir." Lee turned to leave.

The reporter held up his camera, but Bill glared at him and he and Madam Vardon retreated, affording Bill and Laura some privacy.

"I feel bad, Bill," Laura declared, watching through the small window as both women tried to pace in their tiny makeshift cell.

"It's the only way. One of them most likely is a Cylon."

"I know." She turned to face him, staring at him until he met her eyes. "But one of them is innocent. Remember that."

It took him a second to nod.


	4. Chapter 4

Laura lay in the pilot's lumpy bed, trying to muster the strength to get up.

It had been four days now since the crash, and things were getting progressively worse. They'd had to cut their food rations again yesterday, and Laura could feel hunger gnawing at her stomach under the flimsy bedsheets. She did her best to ignore it – they were down to one meal a day now, if you could call it that, and it wouldn't be distributed for another three hours.

The water situation was slightly better, but there certainly wasn't enough for anyone to take a bath or shower – a cold spongebath was the best they could hope for. Depending on Lee and Melissa's progress with the repairs it was quite possible that even that option would vanish soon, though.

Speaking of the repairs, they really weren't going too well. Melissa's knowledge of the ship's systems was rudimentary, Lee's even more so, and even if they had known exactly what they were doing they wouldn't have made rapid progress given the limited supply of materials they had to work with. Bill was helping them out and had gotten the reporter – whose name, Laura had finally discovered, was Sebastian Woods – to take a look at the communications system as well, but it was slow going, and with their lack of expertise nobody wanted to make more than the most conservative of estimates as to when exactly they might be able to contact Galactica or at least get into space again.

Unfortunately these conservative estimates well exceeded the time Laura calculated their food and water could last for.

And then of course, as if they didn't have enough to worry about, there were their two Cylon suspects.

They had questioned each woman three times now, twice alone and once together, twice with Sebastian recording the interrogation and once without, and they were no closer to determining whether it was Tory or Dee who was lying. Each had accused the other of 'doing something' to the communications panel, and each had said that they had questioned the other and received a perfectly rational explanation, which had given them no reason to pursue the matter further or tell anybody else about it. Dee was the one who had tried to stop Lee from doing repair work on the panel, it was true, but it was Tory who had made the arrangements for the shuttle trip in the first place. Looking at the bigger picture, Dee would certainly be in a strategically useful position if she were a Cylon operative; she was married to the Admiral's son, and before that could have been able to influence Laura through Billy – but Tory's position as Laura's aide could be seen as equally valuable.

In short, they were at a dead end.

There was a knock at the door, and Laura started – she had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be getting up. "Come in," she said, propping herself up on an elbow and pulling the sheets closer around herself.

The door opened and Bill appeared in the doorway. "I didn't realize you were still sleeping," he said when he saw her lying there. "I'll come back." He turned to leave.

"No, Bill..." She sat up properly and reached out to turn on the lights, squinting in the sudden glare. "I was just... daydreaming. You can come in."

She saw him hesitate, eyeing her clothes hung across the back of the chair by the desk. _Why yes, Bill, I am almost naked under these sheets_, she thought, suppressing a smirk at his obvious discomfort. She really shouldn't torture him like this, she knew, but he could be so very _proper_ sometimes and considering the direness of their situation she decided she was going to get her amusement where she could.

"What brings you here?" she asked, watching bemusedly as he decided not to use the clothing-draped chair but to sit at the very foot of the bed instead.

"Something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Mmhmm." Laura pulled up her knees under the sheets so she could hug them loosely and nodded for him to go ahead.

"Dee and Tory..." he began, watching her closely. "Just talking to them isn't working. We need to up the ante."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" she asked, watching him just as closely as he was watching her. He was uncomfortable, and it wasn't just Laura's lack of clothes...

"Cut their water rations in half," Bill stated. "Cut their food rations by three quarters. It'll still be enough for them to survive, and frankly the rest of us could use it."

"_Barely_ enough to survive, Bill."

He smiled sadly. "That's kind of the point, Laura."

Laura pursed her lips. "No," she said eventually. "I don't like it. One of them is innocent, and whoever it is we're doing her enough damage already."

Bill looked away. "Laura," he said slowly, "Has it occurred to you that they may both be Cylons? Think about the way we have no more evidence against one than the other, how they told us what amounts to the exact same story with reversed roles... what if they let us catch them on purpose, to distract us from the real issue of fixing the ship and getting off this rock?"

"So you think we should just keep them locked up and deal with them when we get back to the fleet?"

"...No." Bill sighed. "If we can find out who the Cylon is, whether it's one or both of them, we can stop wasting food rations on them and used them to feed the rest of us for another day or two. And if we can establish that Dee is not a Cylon, not only would it make my son immeasurably happy, but she could help us repair the communications system. I say we soldier on."

"Alright." Laura regarded him evenly. "But I still won't agree to cutting their rations."

"Laura—"

"And speaking of your son," she continued, "I think it's high time he took part in his wife's questioning."

"We can't force him to him do that."

"Yes," Laura said. "We can. If the other option is cutting her rations, I'm sure he'll cooperate."

"Laura..."

"Bill." She looked him in the eye, allowed him to see her sympathy. "You know we have to."

He sighed, dropping his gaze. "Alright. I'll talk to him." He stood and went to the door.

"No." Laura put a hand on his arm as he reached for the door handle. "I'll do it. I can afford to get on his bad side more than you can." She offered him a smile.

With still a glimmer of hesitation, Bill nodded and left.

Laura let out a sigh and buried her face in her hands for a moment. Why did the painful tasks always fall to her?

Because you just volunteered, Laura, she reminded herself. 

…Ah. Right. That would be it.

Giving herself a mental push, she finally managed to get out of bed. Pulling her clothes back on – she would have to investigate the clothing in the hold, she decided; she was beginning to look more than rumpled – she brushed her fingers through her hair and hoped she appeared at least almost presentable. Then she put on her Presidential face and stepped out into the main cabin.

Melissa and Sebastian were working on the communications panel, and they both looked up and nodded as Laura walked past them heading for the cockpit. She smiled in return, then regretted it when she realized the smile had come across as far weaker than she'd intended. It was a bad sign when she couldn't even keep up appearances, and she resolved to try harder.

Lee was on his back under some piece of machinery with a mess of wires spilling out of it in the cockpit, and his father was kneeling next to him with a supply of tools at the ready. The click of the door as Laura closed it behind her got their attention, and they both stood.

"Lee," Laura said without preamble, "I need your help."

She could tell he knew he wouldn't like what she had to say by the way he hesitated before saying, "What can I do for you, Madam President?"

"I need you to talk to Dee."

He looked away. "I'd really rather not."

Laura nodded, acknowledging his reluctance, but pressed on. "I know what I'm asking won't be easy for you, but unless we get some results from our interrogations soon we will have to resort to more… invasive methods."

That got his attention. "She's _innocent_, Madam President."

Laura held his gaze. "Then prove it."

They stood there for a moment, eyes locked, before Lee sighed and said, "How? If I start asking her anything she'll think I believe that she's a Cylon."

"I'll leave that for you to figure out." She held his gaze a moment longer, trying to cement his commitment. "I'll have her brought down to the hold – we'll be waiting for you there."

Eventually he nodded. Laura turned and left.

Being the two people with the least technical expertise when it came to spacecraft, the job of guarding the airlock and its two occupants had fallen mostly to the two Quorum members. They regarded her now as she approached them, and Laura steeled herself for yet another frosty reception from Mr. Gillan, who clearly thought such things as guard duty were beneath him.

"How are they doing?" Laura asked, addressing Madam Vardon, who thankfully was a far more practical person than her associate.

"The Lieutenant has done her usually morning press-ups, although I think she did a few less than yesterday. Tory's been pacing on and off. Nothing out of the ordinary." Madam Vardon stole a glance through the small window, as if to check that the prisoners weren't attempting anything behind her back while she was distracted by the president. Her devotion to the task she had been set comforted Laura somewhat.

"Alright," Laura said in acknowledgement. "Madam Vardon, I'm going to need your help escorting Lieutenant Dualla to the hold."

"Of course." Madam Vardon retrieved a length of rope which was lying on the floor and keyed in the code which would open the airlock. The seal hissed open, and Laura and Gillan guarded the door while Madam Vardon went inside and gently took Dee by the arm, saying something to her in a low voice that Laura couldn't quite catch. Laura keyed the airlock shut again as Madam Vardon tied Dee's hands together. Then they set off for the hold, leaving Gillan to guard the airlock alone.

On previous occasions Dee had glared at Laura as she was led away from the makeshift cell. Now she was showing no signs of wanting to struggle and the expression on her face was more resigned than venomous. Laura couldn't decide if this was good or bad; she just hoped that if she was innocent Dee would be able to forgive her – and, more importantly, Bill and Lee.

In the hold, Madam Vardon tied Dee's arms to another rope which had been fastened around a large crate. At a nod from Laura, she then left the two of them alone.

Dee watched almost indifferently as Laura pace their cramped quarters. Laura wasn't sure if she should speak to the Lieutenant or not before Lee arrived – if he even came. Gods, she hoped he would come… She hoped he would come and get some kind of frakking _evidence_ at last, so that they could end this charade, set the innocent woman free, space the Cylon and get back to the more important issue of _survival_. The uncertainty in this was killing her. Every time she felt a twinge of sympathy for either woman she thought _wait, what if she's a Cylon trying to manipulate you,_ and every time she said or did something aggressive to either of them something inside her died a little because _what if she's innocent…_

There was a clank as somebody stepped onto the ladder, and looking up Laura was relieved to see Apollo. She looked back at Dee to see her reaction – the Lieutenant looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Dee," Apollo said, stepping toward her.

By the time he had reached her she was sobbing, and Lee wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders, covering her bound hands with one of his own. Laura felt like she was intruding, but resolved to stay unless she was asked to leave.

"Where have you _been_?" Dee cried, burying her face in her husband's neck.

"I'm sorry… Dee, I'm so sorry… I thought if I came and started asking you questions you'd think I thought you were a Cylon… I thought you'd think I agreed with this!"

Laura wasn't sure if that was a shot at her or not, but it stung her like one.

"I know you don't love me, Lee, but I _needed_ you… I was in hell and you abandoned me!"

The look on Dee's face was too much for Laura to bear; she had to turn away.

"Shh… Honey, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"Too right." There was just a hint of humor in Dee's voice now, and Laura could hear Apollo's sigh of relief from all the way across the hold.

"It's gonna be okay, I promise. Madam President," he said, turning to face her. "Could we have some time alone?"

Laura nodded kindly. "Of course." She turned to climb back up the ladder.

She managed to maintain her composure until she had rounded a corner and ascertained that she was alone, at which point she burst into tears.


	5. Chapter 5

"Laura," Tory said, "I'm _innocent_. I understand why you're doing this, but you have to believe me... what can I do to help you see that I'm _not_ a _Cylon_?"

Laura leaned against the wall of the airlock and sighed. "I don't know, Tory, that's the difficult part." It hurt her to see her aide like this, pleading and hollow-eyed, hands and feet tied just in case she _was_ a Cylon and decided to try something... Whatever was happening downstairs between Lee and his wife was bad enough, but Tory was one of the only people Laura had truly trusted, except perhaps Bill... It was unthinkable that she was a Cylon.

But it was also unthinkable to Apollo and his father that Dee was. Hence the current predicament.

"Try to think of anything you can that might help us," Laura continued, crouching down so she could be eye to eye with Tory, who was sitting dejectedly on her mattress.

"I've already told you everything I can." Tory sighed. They had been here before what already seemed like a hundred times.

"Try again. Come on, Tory. The Admiral is threatening more extreme measures if we can't figure this out soon."

Anybody else might have asked Laura to talk him out of it – but she could see in Tory's eyes that she knew she wouldn't. What had to be done had to be done; that was Tory's own philosophy more often than not.

Tory shook her head slowly. "There's nothing," she said bleakly.

Laura squeezed her eyes shut, massaging her temples. "Let's start again from the beginning," she said after a moment, stepping across the small space to sit down next to her aide.

"We've been over everything. There's no point. There's nothing there."

Laura put a hand on Tory's arm. "Indulge me."

Tory looked at her. Laura looked back.

"Alright..." Tory said reluctantly. She shrugged. "I arranged everything a month ago. I did consider the dangers of having you and the Admiral travelling on the shuttle together, but I decided they were negligible due to the shortness of the trip. Obviously I was wrong about that." She gritted her teeth together, and didn't go on until Laura squeezed her arm in reassurance. "When we boarded the plane I spoke with Madam Vardon for a minute or two, then I went to get some food from the buffet table. That's when I looked across and saw Dualla doing something to the communications panel. I went over and asked her if everything was alright, and she said she was just giving Galactica our ETA. I stupidly didn't see anything suspicious about that, so we chatted for a while and then we were attacked. And no, I haven't suddenly remembered any convenient details which prove my innocence, and no I don't expect to either." Tory sighed, flexing her fingers.

Laura sighed. "Alright," she said, giving Tory's arm a final squeeze before getting to her feet. "Thank you." She looked at her aide, making sure she was looking back. "We'll figure this out somehow, Tory."

Tory smiled bitterly. "I hope you're right, Madam President."

Laura tried to smile a little more brightly, and knocked on the airlock door to be let out.

"Are they still down there?" she asked Gillen as he re-sealed the airlock.

He shrugged. "Don't see where else they could be, Madam President."

She ignored his bordering-on-snide tone of voice and started down the corridor. "Thank you, Mr. Gillan," she said over her shoulder. She didn't wait to see his reaction – the man was seriously beginning to get on her nerves...

Madam Vardon was still standing by the hatch leading to the hold when Laura arrived. "How do you think it's going?" she asked Scorpia's Quorum representative.

The other woman raised an eyebrow. "Well, they seem to be resolving some of their marital issues, but I don't think that tells us a thing about whether or not she's a Cylon."

"Hmm." Laura stood closer to the top of the ladder, trying to make out some of the conversation going on below.

All she could hear was crying.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath, and was about to leave when she heard footsteps climbing slowly back up the ladder.

Dee emerged first, her face tear-stained and her hands noticeably unbound. Lee was close behind her, looking only a little less the worse for wear. They both stopped short when they saw Laura watching them.

"Madam President," Lee said, swallowing.

Dee merely glowered – but at least this meant she had regained some of her spirit.

"Major; Lieutenant," she acknowledged them, trying not to let any emotion show in her face or voice. She knew they wouldn't appreciate it when all she was going to do – all she _could_ do, but she doubted they would see it that way – was send Dee back to be locked up again.

Lee put an arm around his wife's shoulders and escorted her back down the short corridor to the airlock.

Laura sighed. "Alright," she said to Madam Vardon as the other woman turned to follow Apollo and Dualla. "I think it's time to distribute today's rations."

Madam Vardon nodded over her shoulder as she walked. "Yes, Madam President."

Laura stepped back into the main cabin and beckoned Sebastian Woods over to help her distribute the food. They had put the crates containing the food and champagne in the corridor near the airlock, so that whoever was guarding the prisoners could keep an eye on those as well. Sebastian helped the two Quorum members deliver rations to the prisoners, while Laura returned to the cabin to give Melissa her food and to silently hand rations to the Adamas, who were standing close together and stopped talking to each other the moment they caught sight of Laura. She decided not to take this personally and returned to the crate for her own food.

She sat down by the airlock next to Sebastian, who was joining her in taking over from Gillan and Vardon while the Quorum members got some sleep in the makeshift barracks in the hold.

The reporter held his camera up to the tiny airlock window as he chewed his hard cheese, as he had done on the previous two occasions when Laura had shared this dubious duty with him.

"Haven't the batteries in that thing died by now?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow as she chewed her own food.

"They're extra long-life, Madam President." Sebastian grinned and turned the camera to her. "And how are you faring today?" he asked.

Laura smiled wryly. "I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"Come on, Madam President, you've gotta give me more than that!" the reporter admonished, kneeling down to get a better angle on her. "The fleet will want to know what you're feeling in this dark, desperate situation."

"I have every faith in the people working to get us back up in the air," Laura answered, her Presidential mask perfectly in place. "And that's all you're getting, Sebastian, so turn that thing off."

Sebastian shrugged. "Yes ma'am," he said obligingly, turning the camera off and setting it down next to him after joining her on the floor.

"So how are you holding up, Mr. Woods?" Laura said, trying to chew a peanut slower than was humanly possible.

"Not so bad, Madam President." He popped one of his own peanuts into his mouth. "I've been kept busy, though. Not sure how I'd fare if I had nothing to do like those two in there."

Laura sighed. "Do you think we're doing the wrong thing in locking them up, Sebastian?"

"No!" The reporter looked appalled at the mere suggestion. "No. I'd much rather have them in there than potentially murdering me in my sleep. I just wonder how sane the innocent one is going to be after this is all over."

"Believe me, I've thought about that too," Laura confessed. "Probably more than is healthy for me."

Sebastian regarded her. "You shouldn't feel guilty, Madam President. You should be pissed with whichever one of them put you in this situation in the first place."

"That's the trouble, Mr Woods." Laura stood up, giving him a sad smile. "I don't know which one that is." She gazed through the window at the prisoners, who were demurely eating their rations. "I can't help feeling that my anger is the last thing this innocent woman needs, whoever she may be."

Laura let her eyes wander from Tory to Dee and back again. Neither of them looked particularly fiendish. One of them was, though.

And one of them was just the hurting woman she appeared to be.

Frak it.

She sat back down after a moment, trying to smile reassuringly. Sebastian made no further attempt at conversation, and the hours passed in silence and boredom and guilt until Madam Vardon and Mr. Gillan appeared to re-take their places as sentries.

"I'll go see if there's any more repair work I can do before I turn in," Sebastian said, grabbing his camera and heading down the corridor.

"Everything's the same, I take it?" Madam Vardon said.

"Yes." Laura stole a last look through the small window and saw that Tory was leaning against the wall, staring into space with tears running down her cheeks. Laura swallowed, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in her gut. "The same."

She smiled weakly and made her way back to her little room.

Passing thorugh the main cabin, she noted that it was curiously empty. She wondered briefly where everyone was, and then she saw the crates of food and champagne sitting in the middle of the room and had a sudden urge to steal a bottle or two and get so drunk she could forget about... well, everything.

No. She shouldn't.

There was plenty of champagne, though... It wouldn't be missed like the food...

_No_, she told herself. _No, I mustn't._

Unfortunately she thought these thoughts only after she had already grabbed a bottle and run with it into her private cabin, leaning against the door in sudden exhilaration. And by then it was, of course, too late.

Oh well.

She sat on the bed and let herself sink backwards into the sheets, cradling the bottle to her chest as if it contained actual salvation rather than an illusory substitute. The moment of guilt she felt was quickly surpassed by the promise of her greater, more penetrating guilt being masked by a haze of alcohol. Pushing herself slowly into a sitting position again, Laura opened the bottle, wincing a little at the small popping sound. Would there be people out in the cabin again now? Would they have heard?

She raised the bottle to her lips – then stopped. What if there was a crisis and she was needed? It would hardly do to be drunk; wouldn't set a good example, never mind the possibility of Sebastian catching it on film.

...But what crisis could possibly arise where she could actually _help_ here, anyway? she had no technical expertise, and their group of survivors was small enough for her to not be able to do much by simply showing her face and 'placating the masses'.

Besides, now that the bottle was open she could smell the champagne.

Laura drank.

A lot.

Almost immediately she began to feel pleasantly dizzy and warm – a side effect no doubt of her rather restricted diet. She started to giggle at the sheer improbability of her situation and had to put her fist in her mouth to stifle the noise – biting herself accidentally in the process.

Laura held her bleeding knuckles up to her face and studied them. She shrugged, lowered her hand and took another sip of the warm champagne... and then looked at her wounds again. There was something unpleasantly riveting about watching the blood slowly trickle over the back of her hand...

There was a knock at the door. "Madam President?" It was Bill's voice.

"Yes?" she called absently, still fascinated by the red liquid spreading gradually across her skin.

Bill opened the door. "Lau—Gods, are you alright?"

"I'm fine..."

The blood was starting to clot. Laura flexed her fingers.

Clearing his throat, Bill closed the door behind him and sat down next to her on the bed. "What happened to your hand?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." Laura made to take another swig from the bottle, but Bill pried it from her fingers before it reached her mouth. "Hey..." she complained.

"I'm not sure drinking any more of this is the best idea," Bill said, picking up the cork from where it had fallen on the floor in front of him and pushing it back into the neck of the bottle.

"Why not?" Laura said petulantly, trying to forget that she had not intended to drink any of it at all...

"Laura..."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just... getting to me."

Bill nodded, putting the champagne bottle on the floor by his feet. He took her uninjured hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Why is it that things seem to go wrong every Colonial Day?" Laura laughed almost bitterly. "Maybe we should just stop celebrating it anyway. 'S kinda redundant now, right?"

"Laura."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm... tired."

"You should try to get some sleep."

"Hmm." Laura shrugged noncommittally.

"Laura," Bill repeated. "We are going to fix this."

"I wish I had your confidence."

He looked at her silently for a moment, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to her mouth. "Spit," he commanded.

Laura did as she was told.

Bill set himself about the task of cleaning the blood from her hand, squeezing her fingers in apology when she hissed at the sting. When he was done he folded the handkerchief up and put it back in his pocket, pink with diluted blood though it was. For some reason Laura found herself vaguely amused by this.

Taking in her faint smile, he returned a warmer one. Running his thumb over the back of her hand once more he proceeded to get to his feet, taking the champagne bottle from the floor as he did so. "Get some sleep," he said again, opening the door to leave.

"Bill." Laura looked up, into his patiently expectant eyes. "Thank you," she told him.

He nodded and left, and she again did as she was told and got some sleep.


End file.
